wellownedbkup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wellownedbkup) wrote2009-09-16 10:05 am
wellownedbkup) wrote2009-09-16 10:05 am
Entry tags:
stargazing, sophie/daniel
Stargazing
Sophie/Daniel, unknown timeline
Sophie’s lying on the roof of the car when Daniel finds her. There’s a blanket behind her to ward off the chill of night-worn metal and she’s staring up at a cloudless sky for once. He stands a moment, eyes traveling the outline of her silhouette, cast in shadows by the distant streetlamps. And he has to join her, despite the low fences and the well-lit houses of the disapproving neighbors. All those American ideals, transplanted to small town England.
The climb up is bad enough—one foot on the shoulder of the seat and one on the hood before he can boost himself up enough—but it’s worth the damage done to his shocks when she tears her eyes away from the sky to bestow a soft smile on him, a look he craves like a drug for all its rarity. He lies beside her and lends her some of his heat, snuggling them together against the cold.
“Stargazing?” he asks, waving a hand vaguely in the air above their entwined bodies.
She mms softly before holding his hand in hers. “I took an astronomy class once and drove pretty much everyone in my family crazy pointing out constellations. Probably always the same ones, you know? Cassiopeia and Orion, the Pleiades. Made some of the best memories out leaning against a car and making shapes in the sky.”
He still gets a warm feeling when she reaches out like that, without any prompting. He spent so long without that kind of easy touch that he feels starved for it, too used to having her jolting at the slightest touch from him. She’s still got that smile on her face, wistful and dopey, like she’s missing something, but found a near thing to it.
He nuzzles her ear, the sweet smell of her shampoo tinged metallic from cold roofs and bonnets. If he’s willing to be patient, he’s sure that he could get used to that smile being directed at him for eternity.
Sophie/Daniel, unknown timeline
Sophie’s lying on the roof of the car when Daniel finds her. There’s a blanket behind her to ward off the chill of night-worn metal and she’s staring up at a cloudless sky for once. He stands a moment, eyes traveling the outline of her silhouette, cast in shadows by the distant streetlamps. And he has to join her, despite the low fences and the well-lit houses of the disapproving neighbors. All those American ideals, transplanted to small town England.
The climb up is bad enough—one foot on the shoulder of the seat and one on the hood before he can boost himself up enough—but it’s worth the damage done to his shocks when she tears her eyes away from the sky to bestow a soft smile on him, a look he craves like a drug for all its rarity. He lies beside her and lends her some of his heat, snuggling them together against the cold.
“Stargazing?” he asks, waving a hand vaguely in the air above their entwined bodies.
She mms softly before holding his hand in hers. “I took an astronomy class once and drove pretty much everyone in my family crazy pointing out constellations. Probably always the same ones, you know? Cassiopeia and Orion, the Pleiades. Made some of the best memories out leaning against a car and making shapes in the sky.”
He still gets a warm feeling when she reaches out like that, without any prompting. He spent so long without that kind of easy touch that he feels starved for it, too used to having her jolting at the slightest touch from him. She’s still got that smile on her face, wistful and dopey, like she’s missing something, but found a near thing to it.
He nuzzles her ear, the sweet smell of her shampoo tinged metallic from cold roofs and bonnets. If he’s willing to be patient, he’s sure that he could get used to that smile being directed at him for eternity.